So, as I mentioned yesterday, I spent this weekend in a deep blue funk. I think the lowest point was standing in a huge, crawling queue at the neighborhood health food store to buy a teeny bag of sesame seeds, watching the hippies at the till bugger up the cash register and get confused about varieties of whole grain bread. I was overwhelmed with the idea that I'm spending my life tiring myself out working 9:30 to 6 and queueing in huge, crawling Belgian queues, surrounded by Belgians, everywhere fuckin' Belgians being slow and making surreally stupid mistakes, while I haven't replicated my beautiful, beautiful genes yet.
Speaking of, the F-word just got a DVD burner from the licensed Mac store closest to us. Despite it being the Mac store, we've been burned by surreal Belgian incompetence so many times that he asked two employees at the shop if it was Mac compatible. They both said it was and of course it wasn't. Not only that - it has a British plug. When I'm not suffering by them anymore, that's what I'm really going to miss about Belgian fuckups, I think. There's always a little surprise in them - always a bizarre extra, just to make you laugh in crazed frustration as your anger mounts. Any old country is full of fuckups, but Belgium fucks up Magritte-style - bourgeois and bizarre.
Anyhoo, I got over it because of various things on Sunday afternoon and evening, like watching the Ken Loach movie I wrote about yesterday and realizing that at least I'm not a Ukrainian economic migrant and at least I don't live in England. And then yesterday at work my boss told me I was going to a conference at a luxury hotel in Amsterdam in a few months. I can't help it, I love conferences in luxury hotels, and in Amsterdam! What's more during the school holidays, so the F-word can come and luxuriate with me - and luxuriate in Amsterdam, for god's sake; the last time we stayed there we got fleeced for a night in a fucking boiler room.
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